


Memory's Mark

by taichara



Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:54:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: Ares is guided from beyond the grave, even if he's not certain he wants it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt:_ "things that can only be said in private letters"

Ares did not want to believe this. Not after all those years of holding tight to vengeance. Like a lifeline for a drowning man, the thought of finding the spawn of his father's killer and taking blood-price for _that_ loss, at least, had been a balm and a comfort through years of helpless anger. 

And now -- now that comforting blanket of darkness was ripped away from him, and he felt his spirit shivering, exposed and lost. 

He cast a baleful glare that was more than half habit at the aged letter resting on the camp stool, before snatching it up again -- then cursing himself for his carelessness. The thing was old and battered, the ink beginning to fade ... and he needed to be more careful with something that came from his father's hands. Because there was no doubt, as unlikely as it seemed, that the missive had been written by Eldigan of Nordion ...

Even under the flickering light of the lamps, Ares could easily pick out the odd little sigil that sat tucked before his father's signature. That, he remembered: a quirk of his father's, a manner of marking official missives and informal letters both to show they truly came from his own hand. Slowly he traced the shape of the thing with a careful fingertip, and memory supplied the rest --

_"Signets can be forged, and stolen; seals can be broken and welded back together with a candle and a little patience."_

\-- It was as if Eldigan stood there that moment, a note of humour in his voice alongside the impression of grave importance --

_"Which isn't to say, Ares, not to use them. They exist for a reason. But to confirm your words to those most important to you, it's better to be more subtle at times._   
_"Troublemakers, they look for the obvious -- and they overlook the importance of small things. Like idle scratchings on parchment ..."_

Maybe, maybe he was filling in the exact phrasings, since memories had a habit of reconstructing themselves and adding back bits to replace what gets fuzzy. But Ares knew damn well that the conversation was _real_ , he remembered asking about the little spot Father scribbled onto his letters. It _was_ real. It was something that happened.

And there it was, that 'idle scratching', a scrawl from a quill that -- if you looked at it just right -- could almost look like a lion's head. 

This letter -- this explanation, apology, plea for forgiveness from his son, it truly ...

Eldigan, his father, had followed his liege's commands right to his death. He'd fought against Sigurd of Chalphy -- Seliph's father -- not from hate, or revenge, or offended honour, but because he'd had no choice. No more a choice than Sigurd had, when Grannvale ordered Agustria's sovereign lands to be held under his control.

Neither of the two had had a choice, but to confront life-long comrades on the field of battle.

... Politics. Politics and pawns -- and what was the enemy now? Who called for the deaths of thousands, tore babes from their mother's arms, the way his own mother was slaughtered?

Grannvale, again. And the monster that controlled it.

No, Seliph of Chalphy was not the enemy, much as that stung at him still. But that hardly meant his quest was over; not while the hell-spawned Empire still existed.

Slowly, carefully, Ares folded the yellowed pages, tucked them safely away. His path was clear once again, and when the morning came, he'd swallow his pride and ally himself with Seliph's forces properly. He'd been wrong; there was no pride to be gained by denying it now, and it served his purposes to admit it.

Vengeance was still there to be had -- only the scope of it was changed.


End file.
